Chuck vs the Tire Swing
by AQotL
Summary: A sweet Charah oneshot: Chuck discovers that he and Sarah had first met long before she set foot inside the Buy More on that fateful day. With new insight about her, Chuck plans out a night that neither of them will forget. R&R.


**Hello readers!**

**So, this is a oneshot that's been bouncing around in my head for a very long time. The idea itself hit me back in early January, torturing me for hours with the urge to get to a computer. I didn't actually start typing it until after the season 3 finale, and up until now I hadn't been able to finish it. **

**Anyways, this is a completely fluffy Charah story – I'm talking whipped-cream-on-marshmallow-fluff-on-angel-food-cake fluff. It starts out with a little bit of Ellie/Chuck brother-sister bonding, then changes to sweet Chuck/Sarah goodness. And then, of course, there's a little humor thrown in (such as an allusion to a scene from the pilot). **

**I hope you enjoy this little story!**

**EDITING NOTE: To avoid confusion, whenever the words **CHARAH CHARAH **appear (which they only do once in this fic), it signifies a scene change.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck. Plain and simple. The plot is my idea, though. **

**Chuck vs. the Tire Swing**

It was a sweltering mid-summer day, and Chuck Bartowski was sprawled on his stomach, his right cheek pressed against the cool hardwood floor of his sister's apartment. The ceiling fan above him beat its blades against the still air, its breeze shuddering the sheets of white computer paper scattered about the floor. The synthetic wind then rolled over Chuck's sweat-splattered body, eliciting a murmur of, "Oh, this is paradise."

Ellie Bartowski-Woodcomb sighed as she observed her little brother's relaxed state from her perch at the top of the stairs. After all that had happened to them in the past few months – hell, after all that had happened to Chuck alone in the past _three years_ – it relieved Ellie to see Chuck so peaceful for any length of time. Not wanting to disrupt his moment of tranquility, she slowly wrapped her arm around the box beside her to return upstairs. _It can wait_, she told herself as she glanced longingly at her cardboard companion.

"I know you're there," Chuck suddenly said, his voice somewhat raspy from fatigue. Gradually, he sat up and propped his back against the couch as he stretched. He then cast a glance at his sister, beckoning her to join him. She paused hesitantly before she stood up and accepted his invitation.

"Hey," Ellie started, gently setting the box next on the couch before following suit. "I was upstairs looking for anything that belonged to Dad" (there was a short pause as she mentioned their father, still trying to grapple with the fact that he was gone forever this time) "when I found this." She then motioned to the box, its sandy color graying slightly due to the dust collected over the years as it sat untouched in the back of a closet.

Chuck sat up straighter, his interest piqued. "What is it?" His sister smiled as she lifted the flaps and grabbed one of the box's contents. "Here," she said, tossing it to him. "Remember this?"

Chuck stared at the object in his lap curiously for a second before holding it up to examine it some more, a grin spreading across his face. "Hey, it's my old Mouseketeer hat, the one I got when we went to Disneyland for your 10th birthday." He let out a chuckle as he blew some dust off the mouse ears and placed them on his head.

Ellie laughed along with her brother as she pulled more things out of the box and set them on the coffee table. "Here's one of your old Star Wars t-shirts… an old Bruce Lee poster… that matching yellow Easter dress and purse Mom got me when I was seven… oh! Look, it's our old photo album!" She lifted the fabric cover – which was embossed with the words "Photo Album" in gold cursive – to display the first page. Chuck turned the book on an angle so he could see from his spot on the floor.

The first photo was of the Bartowski family crowded around a picnic table, the sandy shore of the beach in the background. Six-year-old Chuck was looking away from the camera as he played with his action figures, pitting a red lightsaber-wielding Darth Vader against the cloaked Obi-wan Kenobi. Steve Bartowski was not facing the camera either, as he was observing his young son's game. Only the two siblings' mother was doing what she was supposed to, smiling both for the picture and at her daughter, who was behind the camera. In the next photo, the family was obscured by Ellie's attempt to be in the picture as well as taking it. Her brunette mane frizzing the slightest bit from recent exposure to lake water, she smiled at the camera, her grin gapped by the absence of her right side tooth. Only the top of Steve's head could be seen beyond his daughter's frame-filling face.

"Oh, I remember this trip! That was the summer we spent a week at the beach. Mom and Dad gave me my first camera just weeks before, so I was taking pictures of everything I caught sight of," Ellie laughed as she turned the page to find some blurry photos of a squirrel, a half-finished sandcastle, and even the ground. As they pored over the album, Chuck would occasionally interject with a comment about the subject of a picture or his sister's lack of talent with a camera.

When they reached the middle of the book, Ellie's eyes lingered on a photo a little bit longer than the rest before she turned the book towards her brother. "This one is just so cute," she said, smiling down at the image. In the picture, Chuck was seated on a tire swing, grinning shyly away from the camera. On his right stood a little girl about the age of this young Chuck, her golden tresses pulled into twin pigtails on each side of her head. Though the girl was smiling as well, she gripped two of the tire swing's chains in her tiny hands in determination – she wanted the swing for herself.

"I took that picture from behind a tree a few yards away," the elder Bartowski sibling admitted. "It was a photo opportunity I couldn't pass up. That little girl seemed dead-set on removing you from the tire swing so she could get on." Chuck let out a short laugh at his sister's comment as the memory flooded back to him.

_It was the middle of July, and yet six-year-old Chuck was bored out of his mind. His action figures lay scattered in the grass surrounding him like fallen soldiers, their faces staring blankly up at the sky. The little boy stared at them with an overwhelming sense of ennui. He'd already reenacted the Darth Vader/Obi-wan duel five times that day; the trash compactor scene twice. Ellie and his mother were down on the beach collecting seashells, while his father was most likely back at the car, taking apart the radio to examine its inner-workings. Chuck sighed, nudging his blaster-toting Han Solo figure with his Converse-clad foot. There was absolutely nothing to do._

_ Then, he saw it. Half-hidden by the gargantuan oak tree on his right, Chuck caught a glimpse of one of the greatest things his youthful mind could have conjured – a tire swing. And this wasn't just a tire swing. It was the mother of all tire swings; the Holy Grail. A nice, fat black tire sat smack-dab in the center of a wooden swing set, suspended by four sturdy metal chains. It called to him, begging to be swung on._

_ Mesmerized by this image, Chuck slowly pushed himself off the ground and stuffed his action figures into his pockets. One by one, his sneakered feet began the brief journey across the grass to the sandy play area. _

_ Upon reaching his destination, the boy hesitantly reached out, fearing that the sight before him was merely a mirage that would vanish if he tried to touch the swing. No such reaction occurred when his fingers grazed the rubber, scalding hot from the rays of the afternoon sun. Chuck let his hands run up and down the metallic suspensions a few times before gleefully hoisting himself onto the vertically positioned tire. _

_ The outside world was all but forgotten as Chuck spun around and around. He twisted the chains together until they would go no further, then released and launched into a swirling vortex comprised of swing and boy. Gripping the linked metal until his hands hurt, he let out a laugh as he watched the scenery blur as he picked up speed. He could still see the trees passing him by repeatedly even after he'd stopped, which only fueled his enthusiasm. And when it seemed like nothing could tear him away from this moment of bliss, reality barged in as an unrecognizable voice spoke:_

"_Hey. Get off the tire swing." _

_Chuck didn't wait for the dizziness to subside before he opened his eyes to seek the source of disturbance. It didn't take long, for he soon caught sight of a young girl around his age leaning halfway over the railing at the top of the adjacent wooden playscape. The girl grinned, knowing she had his attention, and quickly shimmied down the pole attached to the structure. She landed gracefully on the sand below and smoothed out her yellow- and pink-flowered sundress before trotting over to a slightly confused Chuck._

"_Hey," she repeated, pursing her seashell pink lips together in frustration. Are you gonna get off or what?"_

_Chuck shook his head, snapping back to attention. "What?"_

_The petite female's face turned skyward as she huffed angrily. "The tire swing. I wanna get on it. You're on it. Get off."_

_The little boy gripped the linked chains tighter, claiming the swing as his own. "But… but… I was here first."_

_The little girl sighed, stomping her right foot slightly as she crossed her arms. "Fine. Let's try this a different way. Whoever's older gets the tire swing. When's your birthday?"_

_Swallowing nervously, Chuck replied, "September."_

_Once again, the girl looked up, throwing out her arms in frustration. "Mine's in November. November 26__th__," she admitted. Chuck couldn't help but notice her slight lisp as she said 'sixth', the word whistling through the gap where her two front teeth previously resided. _

_The curly-haired child smiled uneasily. "Guess that means the swing is still mine."_

_The angelic-looking youth narrowed her eyes at this comment. "Not quite." Slowly, she leaned in and gripped the chains in her own hands. Chuck's head snapped up at this movement, and his chocolate brown eyes met the girl's sapphire ones. Then, the blonde spoke:_

"_Haven't you heard of 'ladies first'?"_

_Chuck froze, a deer-caught-in-headlights look crossing over his face. This girl was unexpected. She was nothing like the girls at his school, who practically traveled in packs and would chase the boys (or vice versa). But this girl… this girl was stubborn, determined, and headstrong – she was like a real-life Princess Leia. Without realizing it, Chuck let this analogy roll off his tongue and echo in the air._

_A smile played at the corners of the petite blonde's lips. "My mom says I'm kinda like Vicky Vale. You know, from the Batman comics?"_

_Grinning shyly himself, Chuck replied, "I know."_

_A moment later, he slowly slipped out of the tire, landing next to the girl. A look of confusion gradually spread across her face as she looked from swing to boy and back again. She began to open her mouth, but Chuck prevented her from speaking. "Your turn," he said, and released the chains that he previously clasped in his hands protectively. _

_Running her fingers along the ridged rubber, the other child beamed at the swing that was now hers. She turned back to Chuck and whispered a grateful "thank you" as she prepared to pull herself into the tire._

_But just as she was about to accomplish this action, a woman's call of, "Sam! Sam, we have to go now," reached her tiny ears. Her pigtails flying as she whipped her head around, the little girl caught sight of her mother, a beach bag slung over her shoulder._

"_But Mommy, I was just going to…" she began._

"_Samantha Lisa Wilson, there will be no 'buts' about this! Your father is already at the car. Time to go."_

_Sam hung her head as she slid back down to the ground and started walking over to her mother. As she passed Chuck, she gave him a shy smile and mouthed a "thanks" before she stepped back onto the grass. Slowly, the girl and her mother began the journey to the parking lot. After a moment, Sam turned to look back at Chuck one last time. He waved in response, but her back was turned again. _

"Chuck? Chuck? Chuck, are you okay?"

"Huh?" the man in question asked, snapping back to attention. Ellie was staring at him worriedly, a protective hand on his shoulder. Finally understanding her uneasiness, he quickly said, "Oh, no, I'm fine. Just kind of spaced out for a while there. I was thinking about that tire swing picture."

His sister grinned. "Yeah, that was such a sweet little moment." Turning back to the photo, she said dreamily, "Sometimes, I like to think that somewhere in the world a woman is remembering a vacation where she practically threatened another child for the tire swing."

"Sam," Chuck suddenly murmured, the name rolling off his tongue.

Ellie cocked her head at him curiously. "What?"

"Her name was Sam," her brother repeated, replaying the final moments of that memory in his head. Then, it struck him.

_Her name was _Sam.

No, it couldn't be. It couldn't possibly be.

_But her name was_ Samantha Lisa _Wilson._

Somewhat stunned, Chuck pulled the photo album towards him and stared down at the picture once more, silently comparing the young girl's face to that of a certain blonde.

The six-year-old from his memory was none other than Sarah Walker.

Armed with this new information, the human Intersect promptly stood up and – with a brief wave at Ellie – headed off to his own apartment to plan an impromptu (yet special) rendezvous for his girlfriend.

CHARAH CHARAH

"So, where are we going?" Sarah asked for the second time in five minutes, draping her arm over the top of her car door as Chuck sped down the highway. She sighed to herself when he replied, "You'll see," once again.

Sarah sighed at this remark. When Chuck had told her earlier that it was time for another date night, she had expected a movie marathon on the couch or possibly dinner at their favorite restaurant. Instead, they found themselves in the car, heading towards a destination that only Chuck knew about. Okay, so she had been a little bit nervous about this date at the beginning, but this was Chuck Bartowski she was talking about – the sweetest, most caring nerd ever. Whatever he had planned, it would be very heartfelt.

At last, Chuck pulled off the road and into a parking lot surrounded by trees. As she felt the car reach a standstill, Sarah prepared to exit the car, but was stopped by a soft hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, hold on a second," Chuck told her, chuckling slightly to himself. "Let me just get set up here, and _then_ you can come down." At that, he pulled out some bags in the back of the car and disappeared from sight.

A few minutes later, Chuck returned and headed straight for Sarah's side of the car. Bowing to his girlfriend, the nerd cheerfully said, "After you, milady," and offered Sarah his hand. She gladly took it, and the couple exited the parking lot.

Immediately after they had stepped off the asphalted ground, Sarah began to search for clues regarding their location. It wasn't until she felt the texture of the earth change that she knew exactly where they were.

"The beach? This late in the day?" the spy murmured to herself, but soon found herself gasping in delight when she looked a bit further down the shore. There, in her and Chuck's favorite spot – their spot – was a red-and-white checkered picnic blanket with places set for two. Eagerly, the couple took off towards the blanket.

Once the two had comfortably taken their seats upon the cloth, Chuck reached into the tan-colored wicker basket at the edge of the blanket and pulled out two take-out containers. Handing one to Sarah, he announced, "Your order of sizzling shrimp, ma'am," before taking its twin for himself. His girlfriend expressed her gratitude with a small smile before they both dug into their meals.

There was little conversation between the former asset and handler team as they ate. But once they had finished, Chuck was the first to speak.

"Now, I know I'm completely off-base when I say this," he admitted as he rooted through the picnic basket again, "but think of it as me making up for missing the same important event repeatedly over the last three years." At that, he removed a medium-sized container and lifted the lid to reveal an elegantly frosted cake. Watching Sarah's eyes widen with joy, he set it down in front of her with a hushed yet gleeful, "Happy birthday, Sarah!"

"Oh," the woman in question whispered, utterly shocked by such a sincere gesture. "Chuck, you didn't have to do this. You really didn't," she continued, yet she could not bring herself to regret her boyfriend's action. It had been such a long time – too long ago to remember – since anyone had acknowledged her birthday, whether on its actual day or not. So, she didn't think twice when she excitedly removed a knife from its holster on her leg and sliced into the celebratory dessert. Chuck, wielding a knife specifically designed to do such, couldn't help but choke out a few chuckles in disbelief.

As Sarah happily settled in with her piece of cake, Chuck set his aside so he could once again reach into the picnic basket. This time, he took out a petite box wrapped in brightly-colored paper, explaining, "No birthday celebration – no matter whether or not it is anywhere near the actual date – should be without presents." Her sapphire orbs expanding again, Sarah accepted the package and delicately tore off the paper.

Underneath the outer wrapping and cardboard lid lay a pair of gorgeous earrings with a matching gold-chained pendant, each adorned with topaz gemstones. Mesmerized by the beauty of the jewelry, the blonde spy placed the necklace in her palm, its chain dangling off the side. Her eyebrows raised in curiosity at the choice of stone, Sarah shot Chuck a somewhat suspicious glance as she rubbed the back of the metallic ornament. Her finger brushed over a slightly jagged surface, and she flipped the necklace over to see the numbers "11/26" engraved into the metal. The meaning of these numbers hit her like a swift punch to the gut. Slowly looking up to meet Chuck's expectant eyes, she voiced her thoughts in a way that made them sound like an accusation: "You flashed on my file."

Immediately, her asset-turned-boyfriend shook his head, vehemently denying her claim. "I have better sources than that old computer in my head," he laughed, tapping his temple. At that, he gently placed his hands over Sarah's eyes and told her, "Your next present should explain everything."

As Chuck guided her towards the mystery destination, Sarah attempted to figure out their targeted location by focusing on the earth beneath her feet. It had remained as sand for quite a while, but then changed to grass for a moment before returning to sand once more. After her feet had touched sand again, Chuck removed his hands from her eyes, allowing Sarah to take in the sight before her.

"What… Chuck?" she sputtered, a childhood memory spilling into her mind when she tore her eyes away from the curly-haired nerd to stare at the tire swing that stood before her. Befuddlement burned on her face as she turned back to Chuck, who now held a worn photograph out to her. Delicately taking it from him, Sarah saw her memory reflected in the picture. She recognized her six-year-old self – looking as threatening as she possibly could when wearing a pink- and yellow-flowered sundress – and soon realized that the unidentified brown-haired little boy seated on the swing was the kind-hearted man in front of her.

Gripping the chains of the tire swing with one hand and holding the other out to his girlfriend, Chuck said in a soft tone, "I believe it's your turn now." Sarah gleefully accepted his hand, and within moments the couple found themselves lost in a memory. No longer were they Agents Bartowski and Walker; they were simply Sam and Chuck, completing the what-might-have-been ending to the tale of a boy, a girl, and a tire swing.

**Well, there you have it. It's been over seven months since the line, "Hey. Get off the tire swing," somehow found its way into my mind, and now we have the final product.**

**Oh, and a note to my "Olive-Loving Sarah" followers (if any of you are still around, since I haven't updated in about the same amount of time this fic has been in progress): I was working on the third chapter, but got major writer's block. I hope to finish it, but as of now that story is officially on hiatus. I WILL come back to it, though!**

**Thanks for reading, and please leave a review on your way out!**

**AQotL**


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